


Wild Thoughts

by Volky888



Category: Fargo (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Established Relationship, M/M, Morning Sex, PWP
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-01-14
Updated: 2021-02-24
Packaged: 2021-03-12 06:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 4,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28755519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Volky888/pseuds/Volky888
Summary: Good ol’ NSFW drabble collection. Tags to be added as I update. Each chapter's title is the prompt I received.
Relationships: Mr. Numbers/Mr. Wrench (Fargo)
Comments: 26
Kudos: 18





	1. Multitasking

“Aussie I swear to god, if you put me on hold one more time…”

From the look of deep annoyance that Numbers just made, Wrench guesses the Aussie did exactly just that. Wrench tries to hide his laughter into the book that he’s reading. Numbers has been on the phone for the past 15 minutes, hashing out details for an unnecessarily complicated job with the Aussie. And although Wrench feels blissfully at ease reading, comfortably tucked in on the soft couch of their apartment, Numbers is looking increasingly more on edge.

Numbers looks at Wrench, his face contorted into a grimace. Wrench catches his eyes above the book he’s reading and suddenly, a little idea takes place in his mind.

He puts down the book and saunters over to where Numbers is leaning against the large dresser. Numbers looks a slightly placated when Wrench plants a quick little kiss against his lips, but the expression quickly turns into one of confusion when Wrench drops to his knees. Wrench grins up at Numbers as his deft fingers work to undo the man’s leather belt, he sees Numbers’ lips form a small “oh” as realization sets in, and then his hands are scrambling to sign _wait_.

Wrench pulls down the stiff jeans Numbers wears and looks up at him with a loopy grin. Y _ou_ are _waiting. I’m helping you pass the time._ Numbers puts on a scandalized look, but Wrench can see the small smile that threatens to crack his façade, and so he happily goes back to pulling down the underwear separating him from Numbers’ cock. With the gentlest touch, Wrench ghosts his fingers over Numbers’ length, placing a small kiss at the base, his tongue flitting out to taste the skin there. With his other hand placed on Numbers’ hairy stomach, he feels Numbers tremble just once.

Sparing a quick glance upwards, Wrench finds Numbers gazing at him intensely; in his hand, Wrench feels Numbers twitch to life, growing harder as Wrench massages and continues to kiss him there.

His kisses get sloppy, more tongue than lips as he coaxes Numbers to full hardness. Numbers bucks a little, and Wrench presses a firm hand on his hips to hold Numbers still, pressing his ass against the cold wood of the dresser. In one fluid motion Wrench takes him in his mouth, groaning as he feels the weight of Numbers’ cock against his tongue, the salty taste that he’s become so familiar with, and he begins to suck in earnest, taking him in fully each time until it hits the back of his throat.

With one large hand flat against Numbers’ chest, Wrench vaguely registers that the man’s chest is vibrating. He looks up as best as he could, and belatedly realizes that Numbers seems to be talking on the phone again. The hand that is holding the phone clenches so hard that Wrench thinks it’s a wonder the poor device hasn’t shattered to pieces, Numbers’ other hand is clasped tightly around the edge of the dresser, clinging for purchase as Wrench continues to lavish him in attention.

Wrench can see Numbers turning red in the face from the effort of not whining into the phone while the Aussie is on the line. Suppressing a laugh, Wrench firmly presses his tongue against the underside of Numbers’ cock and tightens his lips just a little. Above him, Numbers coughs loudly to disguise the moan that no doubt just escaped his throat, glaring at Wrench with a promise of revenge. Wrench, for all the good it does him, only wants to keep goading Numbers on. He moves his hand to flick at Numbers’ nipple, his other hand gently fondling his balls, all the while bobbing his head on Numbers’ dick. He feels rather pleased with himself when he feels Numbers’ legs begin to tremble, the man is leaning quite heavily on the dresser now, and Wrench wonders briefly if he’s still talking on the phone at all, since Numbers usually starts blanking out when Wrench does this to him.

Finally, Numbers hits his limit. Wrench feels the hot cum in his mouth and smiles as Numbers’ knees gives out and the man slides down against the dresser to sit on the floor, his eyes shut as his brain tries to scramble back to focus, his cheeks red and panting like he just rang a half marathon. The phone, Wrench notices, is left on the top of the dresser.

Numbers slowly gathers his breath. He looks dazedly as Wrench, who appears entirely too cheeky, licking at his wet lips with a trace of cum still visible on his chin.

 _What happened to the call?_ Wrench asks nonchalantly.

 _I hung up on the Aussie._ Numbers glares at him.

Wrench starts to laugh, his shoulders shaking as a quiet hissing sound escapes his lips. For some reason, Numbers finds himself chuckling too.

_Fuck you! Because of you I’ll probably have to tell the Aussie I chocked on my own spit and had to hang up or some embarrassing shit like that._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *miss Rihanna wild thots plays in the background*
> 
> I also have a thread of NSFW wrenchers art here https://twitter.com/volky888/status/1345546336477859840?s=20


	2. Slow Morning Sex

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> taps mic: bottom wrench

Numbers blinks awake to the sight of their ugly popcorn ceiling. He groans and throws his hand over his eyes to block out the morning light; in their tiredness last night both him and Wrench had forgotten to close the curtains, and now a beam of sunlight shone directly onto Numbers’ face, waking him up in an untimely manner.

Next to him, Wrench snores softly, blowing warm air onto Numbers’ chest and holding him with one arm slung over his stomach. It’s unusual for Numbers to wake up before Wrench does, and the bearded man finds himself entranced by the soft sloping curves of his partner’s body, relaxed and vulnerable.

Slowly, Numbers traces his fingers over Wrench’s forearm, following the curves of his firm muscles up to his freckled shoulder. Wrench stirs when Numbers runs the pad of his thumb over Wrench’s nape and presses a kiss into his hair. His hand makes its way down Wrench’s smooth, strong back, feeling the little dips and bumps of the larger man’s body. Wrench arches just a little under his touch, Numbers smiles as he finds clear green eyes fixed on his own brown ones.

 _Good morning_. Wrench signs lazily.

 _Good morning_. Numbers replies with his free hand, the other one busy grabbing a handful of Wrench’s firm ass.

Wrench hisses out a laugh and plants a kiss on Numbers’ lips. _Someone woke up in a good mood today._

Numbers hums a little, pressing forwards for another kiss in lieu of a reply. Wrench’s lips are warm and soft against his own, there’s the slightest scratch of stubble on Wrench’s chin from not having time to shave during their previous job, and Numbers licks into Wrench’s mouth as the other man opens up pliantly. A hand combs gently through Numbers’ hair, massaging and then cradling the back of his head. They don’t break contact, kissing each other languidly, hands roaming and caressing and stroking, soft touches pressed against warm skin.

Eventually Numbers rolls on top of Wrench, getting better access to bite lightly on his neck where he knows Wrench is sensitive, enjoying the little gasps Wrench rewards him with. He feels Wrench’s large hands wrap around both their lengths, pressing them together and stroking slowly. Numbers shudders at the sensation, kisses Wrench one last time on the lips, and raises himself up into a sitting position.

Below him, Wrench looks like an angel. His hair is mussed from sleep and his eyes are soft with adoration, his skin is pale in the soft morning light, and already bruises are forming on his shoulder and neck where Numbers was biting him. Numbers swallows hard, tracing his eyes down the sculpted torso of his partner, down the trail of light colored hair that leads to his crotch, finally coming to a rest at the sight of Wrench’s hand, still softly stroking them both.

Numbers reaches decidedly for their lube and condoms drawer.

With his fingers slicked up, Numbers signs with one hand. _You ready_?

 _For you? Always_. Wrench replies with a smirk.

Numbers laughs as he leans down to kiss Wrench again, pressing a finger into Wrench at the same time to feel Wrench moan against his own lips. He works slowly, adding fingers unhurriedly until he feels Wrench squirm under him, feels Wrench buck up to try and get a little release, feels Wrench growing warmer than usual. Numbers smiles against Wrench’s lips when he feels a large palm rub a circle against his chest, on his heart.

 _Please_.

Keeping his gaze locked on Wrench’s eyes, Numbers removes his fingers. Wrench winces slightly, but soon he’s letting out soft breaths of pleasure as Numbers thrusts into him, stretching out each movement languidly, pulling out almost completely before pushing in again in rolling motions of his hips. Numbers tilts Wrench’s chin back towards him, refusing to let the larger man hide his expressions by turning into the pillow.

 _Keep your eyes on me_. Numbers signs with one hand, his breathing becoming more rapid as he keeps up the pace, wanting to feel as much of Wrench as possible.

Wrench nods. His hands are curling into the sheets now, but he does his best to keep his gaze on Numbers. And yet he can’t help it as his eyes begin fluttering close a little more often when Numbers holds his legs up just a little more and pushes in just a little deeper, the pressure building in the pits of his stomach as his heart hammers so hard he’s sure Numbers would be able to hear it.

Not breaking pace, Numbers’ hand finds Wrench’s larger ones, interlocking their fingers and pressing him into the mattress. Numbers kisses his partner’s chest, beard scratching a sensitive nipple, and then Wrench is clinging onto Numbers’ as he comes, a guttural moan vibrating in his chest, arching into Numbers as the man watches him intently, drinking in every detail of his lover’s release.

Numbers fucks Wrench through his orgasm, coming himself when he feels Wrench clench around him with such a tight heat that for a second all he feels is warm, warm, warm.

For a few minutes after, neither men move much. Numbers is laid out on top of Wrench, still buried to the hilt. He feels his senses returning when he finally picks up on the fact that Wrench is rubbing soft circles into his back, a gentle gesture that Numbers has come to love and crave. He pulls out, flopping down next to Wrench. The larger man immediately envelopes him in an embrace again, showering him with small chaste kisses until Numbers is grinning from ear to ear.

As far as mornings go, Numbers thought he’d be happy to spend the rest of them exactly like this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one goes out to Venus_The_Space_Cadet


	3. Cowboy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (trans male character)

_I can’t believe you actually look like you fit in for once_. Numbers signed exasperatedly.

Wrench grinned back, strutting with his chest puffed out as usual, the fringes on his jacket swaying with every movement. All around them are people dressed in a similar manner as Wrench; how they ended up killing time at a country fair in Texas of all places, Numbers can never fully explain. For once, it was Numbers’ polished outfit that clashed terribly around the farmer and cowboy aesthetic that seems to be favored here.

 _I’d be happy to get you a cowboy jacket too, so you don’t feel left out_. Wrench offers with a mock serious expression.

Numbers huffs out a laugh in response. _Over my dead body_.

They wander around, Numbers walks off momentarily to grabs a glass of whisky – they’re off the clock, after all – and returns to find Wrench trying on cowboy hats at one of the stalls. Catching sight of him, Wrench turns, wearing a brown leather hat with elegant curves and bronze embellishments, shooting Numbers a hopeful look.

_How do I look?_

_Like a fucking cowboy. What do you want me to say?_

Wrench pouts just the tiniest bit, turning away from Numbers. He returns the hat on his head onto its stand, and wanders further into the stall where rows of bandanas are displayed. Numbers begrudgingly follows him into the stall, warily eyeing the towers of hats and the numerous other customers in ridiculous jackets. Distracted by a small selection of fine leather belts, Numbers doesn’t notice Wrench until he feels the soft taps on his shoulder. When he looks up, his jaw drops involuntarily.

Wrench stands there, radiating confidence in a sleek black cowboy hat, around his neck is a dark blue bandana with a small starburst pattern. Together with his dark jeans and usual jacket and boots, he looks like he walked right out of a movie set. His eyes look paler than usual in the harsh daylight, and all Numbers could do for a few seconds is stare up at him and try not to drag him into one of the changing rooms then and there.

 _Your face is turning red_. Wrench looks smug.

Numbers raises his hand as if he’s going to say something, and then sighs deeply. _I’m buying these for you._

 _Oh? You don’t mind me looking like a cowboy_ _anymore_? Wrench teases, following him as they head to the register.

 _Shut up. Maybe you can wear this for Halloween or_ _something_.

Maybe it’s a trick of the light, but Wrench could swear Numbers turned a little redder.

Wrench continues wearing his new items after Numbers pays. It is still early in the afternoon and the sun beat down on them mercilessly. Numbers was beginning to wish he had a hat of his own. They seek out shade in one of the food stalls, each ordering a hotdog.

From where they sit, they get a pretty good view of the attraction next door. In a small clearing, a mechanical bull is set up. There’s a small but rowdy crowd gathered next the bull, watching and cheering for the poor soul that is currently holding on for dear life as the machine bucked wildly to throw him off.

Numbers laughs when the guy on the bull tumbles off ungracefully, and even Wrench looks amused at the way the man fell: feet over his head, and he’d somehow even lost a boot.

_I haven’t seen one of those in a long time._

_Oh yeah_. Numbers’ face lights up at the memory _. That birthday party for that kid down the block, right? We weren’t old enough to be allowed to ride._

Wrench nods, his face soft as he remembers the fond memory. He and Grady were around 10, and even though their parents made them go to the party out of curtsey, they’d spent the entire evening challenging each other to do stupid things, completely ignoring the birthday boy.

As if on cue, Numbers signs. _I have a challenge for you_.

Wrench rolls his eyes. _Of course you do_.

_If you can ride that mechanical bull, I’ll drive us home tomorrow._

Wrench quirks up an eyebrow. It’s a tempting offer. _Deal._

After wiping his fingers of the excess hotdog sauce, Wrench carefully places his new hat next to Numbers so that it won’t get dirty in the fray. Numbers watches Wrench stride over to the ring, quietly admiring his long legs and the way his hair seemed to burn just a little redder in the sunlight.

Numbers was fairly certain those bulls are designed to be impossible to win, and he wasn’t really that keen on actually driving the next day, but as Wrench gracefully swings a leg over the bull to straddle it, a look of concentration on his face as he figures out where to grab hold, Numbers gets the sense that he just dug his own grave.

The mechanical bull rocks to life slowly, Wrench only has time to catch Numbers’ eyes briefly over the crowd before the bull starts to buck in earnest. Suddenly worried, Numbers shifts to the edge of his seat to watch; to his astonishment, Wrench seemed to actually be having _fun_.

The machine swings and bounces wildly, but always failing to throw Wrench off. The man balances impossibly against every movement, fringes flying wildly as he grins cockily in Numbers’ direction. The spectators begin to cheer for Wrench, mesmerized by how easy he makes it all look. _Typical. Of course he’d be fucking incredible at it_. Numbers thinks to himself. He can feel his mouth getting dryer the longer he watches Wrench, bouncing wildly on top of that stupid machine. Briefly, he thinks that he should bring Wrench to these country fairs more often.

By the time the machine finally stops, the crowd is wild. Wrench dismounts with the same amount of grace as before and doesn’t even stumble like so many others are prone to do after a wild ride like that. Numbers stares incredulously as a few people pat Wrench on the back with gusto before the man saunters back to his side.

 _Well_? Wrench puts his hat back on in one smooth movement, looking every bit the suave and handsome cowboy as he leers down at Numbers.

 _I’ll drive tomorrow_. Numbers concedes. He pauses briefly. _Think you can ride me like that sometimes?_

_Please, you’re not nearly as wild._

Numbers rolls his eyes before finally standing up to drag Wrench in the direction of their car. _We’ll see about that. For now I just need you to drive us back to the motel and pound me into the mattress._

Wrench grins.

They drive back in record time, stumbling into their motel room with hands all over each other and lips locked in heated kisses. Numbers can feel Wrench undoing his shirt buttons with deft fingers, and very soon he’s wearing only his pant suits and polished shoes. Wrench runs his hand over Numbers’ torso, trailing one last kiss before moving to remove his own jacket.

 _Wait_. Numbers shoots out a hand to stop Wrench. _I want… Fuck me with your clothes on._

Wrench smirks at Numbers, knowing full well the effect he’s been having on his partner all day. _Turn around._

Swallowing hard, Numbers tugs off his own pants before kneeling on the bed, his back to Wrench. Behind him, he hears the clink of Wrench’s belt buckle and the slide of his zipper, and he feels himself growing wet with anticipation.

A strong arm snakes around Numbers’ torso, holding him tight as Wrench presses his body against him. The buckskin of Wrench’s jacket rubs against Numbers’ bare skin, and the coarse fabric of Wrench’s jeans slide against the flesh of Numbers’ ass and thighs. Numbers hisses out a soft gasp at the sensation, he can feel the length of Wrench’s erection pressing against his ass.

With his free hand, Wrench gently begins to stroke Numbers’ cock, rubbing circles the way he knows makes Numbers’ melt. And melt he does. Numbers bends over as Wrench presses a little harder, planting his face into the mattress and barely supporting himself with his elbows. Wrench smiles as he bites at Numbers’ lovely shoulders, sliding two fingers into Numbers’ wet cunt, stroking him with practiced fingers, brushing his knuckles against Numbers’ sensitive walls.

Numbers trembles with want, he turns his head as far back as he can, “Fuck me already. Wes. C’mon.”

Wrench unravels his arms from around Numbers. There’s the sound of a condom wrapper being torn, and then Numbers feels the tip of Wrench’s hard cock against his cunt. And then, there is only the steady rhythm of the mattress squeaking and Numbers’ broken moans as Wrench pounds into him hard.

Wrench fucks him thoroughly, burying himself to the hilt each time, pressing his torso into Numbers’ so that there is no space between their bodies. Numbers acutely feels the friction of Wrench’s clothes against his own skin, the fringes of the jacket swaying wildly around him with each thrust of Wrench’s hips.

Putting half his weight onto Numbers, Wrench frees up a hand to continue stroking Numbers’ dick. Both men are panting hard, and Numbers is sharply aware of the wet sound of Wrench fucking him, his cock stretching Numbers open and filling him up. Numbers comes with a muffled yell into the mattress, convulsing and shaking as he lets the pleasure take over. He feels Wrench follow suit as the larger man lets out a strangled moan next to his ear, his movements stilling as he releases.

With one last grunt, Wrench collapses on top of Numbers, effectively trapping the smaller man under his body. Numbers lets him lay there, feeling the weight of his partner press him into the mattress as he absent mindedly rub circles on the back of Wrench’s hand. In his pleasure addled brain, it feels like the safest place in the world.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The real NSFW here is wrench radiating BCE (big cowboy energy).  
> I know nothing about Texas and I’ve never been there. please if you’re Texan do not be offended. Or be offended, my fist fight schedule is open, it’s up to u.  
> This one goes out to winterwinterwinter.


	4. Suits

_I swear, these pants are_ way _too tight._

Numbers considers this, staring admiringly at the pert outline of Wrench’s ass, hugged firmly by the fabric of the new suit pants that Numbers got him. _No, I think they fit perfect_.

Wrench narrows his eyes at Numbers. _You clearly weren’t thinking of the job at all when you bought this_. _How am I supposed to run and shoot in these?_

 _Hey, if it all goes well we won’t have to waste bullets on the shithead._ Numbers steps a little closer, determined to not think of work just now. _And I can think of a few things that might get you warmed up to the idea of wearing these…_

He presses up – god forbid if anyone ever saw him standing on his tiptoes to kiss his mountain of a boyfriend – takes his time slowly kissing Wrench the way that he knows blanks out Wrench’s brain. He backs Wrench against their bedroom wall, fingertips ghosting past Wrench’s leather belt and feeling out the bulge that is growing in Wrench’s pants. He feels Wrench breath out; the deep, chest caving kind of sigh that Wrench does when he really feels good.

Wrench pushes against Numbers gently, just enough to create space to sign. _If you don’t get these pants off me in the next 30 seconds, the seams are going to break, I can feel it_.

Numbers laughs, deft fingers happily getting to work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> in retrospect this has neither suits nor nsfw
> 
> this one goes out to Salometic!


	5. Bound

_On your knees._

Grady suppressed a shiver and did as he was told. He tried to slow his breathing and calm himself down, but it was getting increasingly difficult with the way Wes was looking at him, eyeing him up and down like he was assessing a prey.

It wasn't often that he got to do this, or rather, got Wes to agree to do this to him; give up all his power, let the other man take complete control and do as he pleased. And, against all his instincts, he felt safest when he was completely vulnerable like this. Bound up and powerless, yes, but in Wes' hands, he'd always be safe.

 _You look good like this_ , Wes looked down at Grady, _I'm going to take my time ruining you._

Grady felt his breath hitch just a little. And Wes, attentive as always, picked up on it with a satisfied smirk.

_Open your mouth, pretty boy._


	6. Rough

Numbers groaned happily as Wrench finally slammed him into their bed. Wrench had spent almost half a day ignoring him, angry at something stupid Numbers had done. So naturally Numbers spent the same time being infuriatingly distracting, trying to catch Wrench’s attention the one way he knew was fail proof.

They’ll talk it out after, of course. But right now Numbers thinks there’s a better way of relieving the tension.

Wrench’s hands tears roughly at Numbers’ shirt buttons, lips and teeth already busy bruising any bit of exposed skin on Numbers’ chest. A light rumble of a growl escapes Wrench, and suddenly all Numbers can think about is how he can get Wrench to make that sound again.

In practiced motions, Numbers undoes Wrench’s belt and pant zipper. Numbers strokes Wrench lightly with shaky fingers, feeling the full hardness of the man above him and feeling his own head becoming a fuzz of needs and wants. He wants to touch Wrench, to bite him, kiss him, dig his nails into him and feel Wrench shudder inside him. But his thoughts are abruptly interrupted when Wrench stops kissing Numbers and forcefully grab Numbers’ hands, pinning them over Numbers’ head instead.

Wrench leans over the smaller man, holding Numbers down firmly with his body weight. Wrench is panting a little, his cheeks flushed the way they get when he’s worked up like this. He drags his gaze up Numbers’ body, taking in his partner’s disheveled form, and locks Numbers’ gaze in a command that won’t be denied.

 _Tonight, you take what I give you_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> these are finally actual drabble length


End file.
